The Write Words
by Pieholer
Summary: Ned’s side of the story. Takes place smack dab in the middle of “Corpsicle.” What could he write that would make Chuck forgive him?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Write Words

**Fandom:** Pushing Daisies

**Pairing:** Ned/Chuck

**Summary: **Ned's side of the story. Takes place smack dab in the middle of "Corpsicle

**Disclaimer:** I only own these characters in my thoroughly romantic, yet twisted imagination

Just minutes ago, as Ned ransacked the apartment looking for a piece of a paper and a pen, writing a letter seemed like a great idea. Now he stared at the blank, meaningless paper, feeling just as blank and void of meaning.

What could he write that would make Chuck forgive him? He'd never been good at finding the right words. He remembered almost failing 10th grade English because he had to write a report on "Romeo and Juliet," and—no surprise—he couldn't get it right. _What was the use anyway?_ his 16-year-old self had reasoned. _No one ever __really__ feels that kind of passion._

Yet here he was, experiencing that exact same overwhelming, all encompassing longing. The kind that made it difficult for him to think. To breathe. To envision life without her.

This time he had to come up with the right words. He had to.

_Dear Chuck,_

_I don't know where you are and I've looked everywhere I could think of. Last night is like a bad dream that keeps playing in my head over and over. You were right to be angry. I don't know why I blurted it out like that, about your dad and about what I did._

_You don't know how many times I've almost told you. Then you'd look at me and give me a smile—you know the one—and I'd lose my train of thought. _

_I remember the day it happened. We had crushed an entire clay village and conquered the world. Right then, I knew I'd never have a better or closer friend. I vowed I would never, ever let anyone hurt you. Then I turned out to the person who did exactly that._

_I liked your dad. He made me feel like I could come to your house any time, so I did. Sometimes he'd squeeze my shoulder, as if he was proud of me, and I couldn't help wishing my dad acted more like him. I could see why you loved him so much._

_Then my mom died, Chuck, just dropped to the floor and didn't move. I had to do something. I couldn't let her be dead. She was the only person who really loved me, except for you. Even then I knew that. So I touched her like I'd touched Digby and suddenly everything was all right again. She didn't even remember being dead. _

_When your dad died, I didn't know if it had something to do with my bringing Mom back. No, that's not really true. I was pretty sure I had traded my mom for your dad. At first I didn't want to think about it and then I couldn't think of anything else. I hated seeing you cry. I'd have done anything to stop you from being sad—except give back my mom. I hate that I was so selfish._

_If only I had known my mom couldn't touch me again—at least she'd still be alive. After all that, I'd lost my mom anyway and now you didn't have a dad. That night, even though I knew I was too big to cry, I did. Not just because I missed her but because I had also hurt you. I was only 9 years old and already a murderer. Dad was right to send me away and never look at me again._

_I know my childhood would have turned out the same, whether or not I had this "gift." (And why does everyone call it that? It's been a curse, except for one time.) Mom would have died anyway and I'd still have gone to boarding school. But you—you could have had a normal life if I hadn't done what I did. If you'd never lived next door or known me._

_That's why I never came back to see you. I thought if I stayed away, you would be safer. At least, safe from me._

_When I touched you in the funeral parlor, I thought that somehow fate had come up with a way for me to make it up to you. But as we spent more time together, I realized you were becoming my reason for getting up in the morning, for living each day—and I couldn't lie to you anymore. I could only hope you wouldn't hate me——_

Ned felt his hand form a fist as he crumpled the paper into a ball. If only he could throw his heart in the trash along with his lame letter. Anything to stop the ache, this feeling of dying a little more with each moment she was gone.

He would come up with another way, a better way, to ask for her forgiveness. Until then, maybe working at the Pie Hole would take his mind off her for a little while. Olive would be coming to work in an hour and she might know where Chuck was…


	2. The Write Words Again

Title: The Write Words Again

Fandom: Pushing Daisies

Pairing: Ned/Chuck

Summary: Chuck reads Ned's side of the story. Takes place after "Corpsicle." Sequel to "The Write Words"

Rating: G

Disclaimer: I only own these characters in my thoroughly romantic, yet twisted imagination

It had been two days, 10 hours and 32 minutes since the Piemaker and a girl named Chuck left the cemetery. In that time, they had talked little and made eye contact even less.

If they could have held hands, hugged each other and maybe even made love, they might have been able to slip back into each other's lives more easily. To gulf the chasm that was her grief. But the healing that often comes from physical contact, what Chuck liked to call an emotional Heimlich, wasn't even an option for them.

Chuck hadn't returned to the Pie Hole since the night Ned told her the truth about her father's death. Being that close to Ned, going back to the routine they'd established since he'd brought her back to life, well, something about it didn't feel quite right. Yet.

While Ned worked, Chuck wandered around the small apartment they shared, watching old moves on TV, reading books and staring out the window. And with each hour, she felt the shock of Ned's revelation recede a tiny bit more.

Today she picked an especially juicy book, "Courtship Rituals of Medieval Times," and lay on the couch with a wooden spoon covered in chocolate chip cookie dough. A piece of unmarked paper fluttered out of the book as she opened it. (She had purchased it at a used bookstore and it's amazing what you can find in someone's hand-me-downs, but this was only a slip of paper and nothing else). So she threw it in the trash basket and that's when she noticed another crumpled piece of paper already in there.

If Chuck's aunts had been the type to share things with her, she might not have been such a snoop. But they rarely told her about the interesting things going on and Lily seemed especially tight-lipped about so much that Chuck wanted to know.

So Chuck didn't even think twice about picking the paper out of the trash and smoothing out its wrinkles. Then she gasped — it was a letter from Ned to her. Why had he thrown it away? The only logical answer was that it he didn't want her to see it and the only way to find out why was to read it anyway.

Her eyes took in Ned's explanation of what happened the day her life had changed forever. How he had cried that night over losing his mom and killing her dad. But his words didn't really sink in until she got to, "_I was only 9 years old and already a murderer. Dad was right to send me away and never look at me again."_

Charlotte Charles' heart finally opened to the fact that she wasn't the only one in pain. She pictured her childhood friend, who suddenly had an inexplicable power that must have seemed too heavy a burden for a 9-year-old. How confused and frightened he must have been. Tension in her shoulders that she didn't even realize she had began melting away as tears made narrow tracks down her cheeks. She kept reading.

"That's why I never came back to see you. I thought if I stayed away, you would be safer. At least, safe from me.

"When I touched you in the funeral parlor, I thought that somehow fate had come up with a way for me to make it up to you. But as we spent more time together, I realized you were becoming my reason for getting up in the morning, for living each day—and I couldn't lie to you anymore. I could only hope you wouldn't hate me—"

All those years she wondered why he hadn't come back to see her. It wasn't that he didn't care for her – it's that he cared too much. And still did. In that moment, she knew that she cared too. Deeply. And she missed him, especially how he looked at her longingly, showing how much he loved her with just a glance… her lover in every way except physical.

Suddenly she needed to be near him again, to let him know that her grief was something they shared. Wiping away her tears, she decided to walk into the Pie Hole with a big smile just for him and end this ill-fitting stalemate between them.

But first she had to do one last thing. She carefully folded his letter and slipped it in the drawer of her nightstand. In a way, it was a little piece of him — a piece that she could touch again and again.


End file.
